Lost Boy
by Emalin
Summary: Post S3. Billy's life has completely fallen apart after the events of July '85. He's started drinking, lost his job, and gotten kicked out of the Hargrove/Mayfield house. Luckily for him, word gets around in Hawkins, and Chief Jim Hopper has a more generous heart than advertised.
1. Hopper Makes An Offer

**Notes:**

I just really wish Billy had lived, okay?

Two other key differences from the show:

\- Hopper survived the Battle of Starcourt, and he and Joyce are dating.  
\- The Byers and Eleven are still in Hawkins.

This fic is largely unbeta'd, though I've worked hard to make it as readable as possible.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Mr. Hargrove!"

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Billy jerked awake in the driver's seat, hitting his browbone on the door. "Ow, fuck!" Holding a hand to his head - which was already aching from the night before - he squinted out the car window into the morning sun. There, framed perfectly by the too-bright light, stood the tall, imposing silhouette of a man in a sheriff's hat.

Chief Hopper, looking none too pleased.

Billy scoffed. "Fuckin' pig. Fuck off." He turned over to go back to sleep.

"You know the rules, Mr. Hargrove, no sleeping off a hangover in a public park."

_Bang, bang, bang! _went Hopper's flashlight, hitting the roof of the car. Billy's eyes flew open, and he shot upright, twisting to yell out the window, "Hey! If you dent my car-"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll sue me. Now get out of here before I bring you in for public intoxication."

"What, is that supposed to scare me?" Billy laughed out loud. Closing his eyes, he settled comfortably in his seat. "You don't scare me."

A beat passed. The chief muttered something under his breath. Billy smirked, about to say, _What was that, chief? Couldn't hear you, _but he never got the chance. The door flew open, and a pair of hands seized his shirt.

"Wha- hey, get the hell off me!" he shouted, only to be dragged out of his seat and brought face-to-face with the chief. For the first time, Billy saw his face clearly, and what he saw sent a jolt of fear through him.

The man had a hard look in his eyes. Not the kind Billy's dad got - a hot, murderous look that could explode at any second - but hard enough all the same. He breathed loudly through his nose, glaring at Billy with an unnerving steadiness.

"You wanna test me?" he said. "Go ahead. See how far it gets you."

Fear gave way to contempt. Billy spat in his face.

The chief blinked in shock. He was actually surprised by Billy's defiance, a fact Billy found darkly satisfying.

Then his expression hardened. Grabbing Billy's collar, he slammed him into the side of the car. The impact knocked Billy's teeth together in an all-too-familiar _clack_, and he laughed - a wild cackle that came from the back of his throat.

He couldn't stop laughing after that. He laughed as Hopper slapped a pair of handcuffs on him, and he laughed all the way to Hopper's truck. When Hopper shoved him into the passenger seat and shut the door, Billy whooped so loud the cabin rang with it.

Oh, he hadn't been in a cop car in a _long _time.

This was going to be an interesting day - a real peachy, write-home-to-mama kind of day.

* * *

Billy kept his eyes closed, his head on the headrest, and a smirk on his face the entire ride. Sure, let the almighty Chief Hopper think this was a punishment. Let him think Billy was scared of a little jail cell. The joke was on him, because at least Billy would have a place to sleep.

The events of the past few weeks unrolled behind Billy's eyes like a slow-mo video reel.

The horrors of Starcourt. Endless bottles of booze. The angry face of his boss at the community pool as he said, "You're fired." The even angrier face of his dad calling him a "no-good son of a whore." Max screaming as Billy rammed his dad's head into the wall. Slamming doors. All his worldly possessions (the ones he cared about, anyway) sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Sleeping under the stars. Susan's face when she opened the door mid-morning, letting him in for breakfast and a shower. Max shoving dollar bills into his hands, saying, "Here. You need it more than me." Max hugging him, her red hair tucked beneath his chin.

Moisture gathered under Billy's eyelids. He bit his lip savagely until it dried.

Just then, the truck crunched onto gravel and stopped with a screech. Opening his eyes, Billy looked around to find they'd pulled into a private drive in the middle of the woods. Suddenly he felt stone-cold sober.

"What the hell is this?" He glanced at Hopper. "Where did you take me?"

Hopper turned off the engine. Hand still on the wheel, he stared out the windshield.

"I know what's going on, Billy," he said. "I know about your dad, the booze - everything. Max told El."

Billy rolled his eyes skyward, and his head fell back against the headrest. _Of fuckin' course. _

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"Like hell you are. A kid your age shouldn't be out on the street."

"I'm not a fuckin' kid."

"You are if I say you are," the chief retorted, voice raised. "Now shut up and listen. I'm feeling mighty generous after what you did for my daughter. And believe me when I say she is the _only _reason I'm here. Because let me make one thing clear."

He leaned toward Billy, making the leather seat creak. Billy looked at him with wide eyes.

"I...don't...like you," Hopper enunciated. He started counting on his fingers. "I don't like your shitty haircut." One finger. "I don't like your shitty attitude." Two fingers. "I don't like your shitty face." Three fingers. "But you saved my daughter's life, and I can never repay you for that.

"So here's my proposition." He straightened up. "You come work for me, help me patch up my cabin. I give you some money and a couch to sleep on. We continue this arrangement until you're back on your feet. On one condition."

The chief lifted a finger in the air.

"You lay off the booze."

Billy blinked. Thoughts and emotions roiled inside him. The chief was..._ giving him a job_? As long as he could stay _sober_?

Fuck. That would be a tough gig. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone a day without a beer. Lately it'd been a whole six-pack every morning and night, with who knew how many in between. To go from that to nothing would be…

Fuck.

Billy licked his lower lip. "And if I say no?"

"Then I haul your ass to jail for assaulting a police officer, and you continue your downward spiral into a life of crime." Hopper smiled. "But hey, if you want it that bad, don't let me stop you."

Silence fell over the cab. Billy chewed the inside of his mouth and flexed his wrists within the cuffs. God, these things were uncomfortable. An image flashed through his mind: him wearing an orange prison suit, and cuffs on his wrists all day, every day. Though he knew that wouldn't happen - even death row inmates didn't wear cuffs _all_ the time - it made his stomach lurch.

He sighed heavily. _Fuck this fuckin' shit._

"When do I start?" he grumbled.

"Good choice!" Hopper boomed, clapping Billy on the back. "You'll start today."

As Hopper turned the key in the ignition, bringing the truck to life with a rumbling _vroom_, Billy sank into his seat. Somehow this felt like his lowest point. Not sleeping off a hangover in his car - this. Throwing himself on the good graces of Chief Jim Hopper...and sleeping on his fucking couch.

"Shit," he muttered. As they peeled out of the drive, he looked out the window, watching the trees go by with hooded eyes.

This was shaping up to be another long, _long_ year in Hawkins.


	2. The Cabin Where My Mind Was Flayed

Billy was half-asleep by the time they arrived. Hands still cuffed, his head lolled against the window as he drifted in half-formed dreams of sunshine and sheriff's hats. When the truck stopped, the bounce of the suspension made his temple smack the glass_. _

"God fucking _damn _it!" he hissed. He tried to raise his hand to the spot, but encountered the hard metal of the cuffs instead. So he settled for scowling like he wanted to murder somebody. Which, by this point, he very much did.

The engine cut off. Keys jangled as they were removed from the ignition.

"We're here," Hop announced.

Blinking away an ache-induced haze, Billy looked out the windshield. Naturally, they were in the woods again. Just a short distance in front of them, a cabin crouched low to the ground, as if trying to hide.

Billy had never been here in his life. And yet, he recognized it.

_Stalking slowly through the doorway._

_Pinning her to the wall with his stare. _

_Threats dripping from his lips. _

_Tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped, "No. No!" _

"Hargrove!"

Hopper's bark shattered the growing darkness around him. He jerked to attention, eyes on the chief.

"You with me?" the man said.

It took a second, but Billy nodded. Satisfied, Hopper jangled the keys in his hand. "Alright. Let's do this."

As the chief opened the squeaky driver's door and stepped out, Billy turned his gaze back to the cabin. Its windows seemed to glare at him, hating him. Accusing him. His jaw clenched. _Hey, I don't fucking want me here either, so let's just buckle down and get through this, alright? _

Then the door opened, the chief pulled Billy from the truck, and together they walked toward the cabin.

Now that he was out in the open, Billy could see more of the damage. Tarps covered multiple spots on the siding like bright blue bandaids. Off to the left, a pile of debris sat rotting in the yard. On the roof, the largest tarp of all flapped gently in the breeze.

Hopper stopped, grabbing Billy's elbow to hold him back. He pushed up his hat and gestured to the scene. "I, uh, haven't been able to do much with it yet. The past few weeks have been… tough."

Billy's lips twitched. He knew exactly what the chief meant. There was no shortage of trauma in these parts - especially, Billy guessed, for the girl in Hopper's care. Shoving away the image of her tear-stained face, he stared apathetically at the cabin, saying nothing.

Hopper took the hint. Clearing his throat, he led Billy to the front door and unlocked it with another key.

Billy was the first to step inside. Moving slowly, he took in the space with sharp eyes. The place was fully furnished, as if its inhabitants could walk right in at any moment. No one had lived here for weeks, though - that much was obvious. The air was stale, the lights were off, and the furniture was covered in clear plastic. It felt strange. Depressing.

The damage was even more obvious from here. A huge chunk of the roof was missing, and the tarp covering the hole cast a weird blue tint over the space. The sound of it flapping in the breeze reminded him of sailcloth, which conjured up images of shipwrecks and desert islands.

Then he saw it: the girl's room, empty and forlorn. His stomach turned. _Fuck. _

"The whole roof needs to be reshingled anyway," Hopper said from somewhere behind him. "Figured I'd take the time to do a quality job."

Billy swallowed hard. "What-what do you need me to do?"

"Well, today you'll be cleaning up debris outside. I'll have to uncuff you, but don't even think about running. I'll catch you, and then our deal is off. Understand?"

When Billy didn't respond, Hopper stepped up behind him. "Hey!" Billy whirled around. "I said do you understand?"

There it was, that steely look again. Billy's mouth went dry, and he nodded.

"Good." Producing a small key, Hopper unlocked and removed the cuffs. As soon as they were off, Billy shook out his hands, breathing a sigh of relief at the restored blood flow.

"You'll need gloves," Hopper said. He turned and disappeared outside, presumably to get gloves from a shed.

Billy started to follow him, but stopped. A tugging, a compulsion he didn't understand, made him glance up at the hole in the roof. Goosebumps cascaded down the back of his neck as he stared at the luminous blue of the tarp, watched it undulate slowly in a breeze that didn't seem to be there.

_Tentacles ripping the roof open._

_The girl screaming, holding onto her friends for dear life- _

He jerked himself out of the memory with a gasp. Stumbling back, he looked wildly at the cabin around him, then hurried out the door into the sunlight.

Behind him, the shadows chittered and clicked like a monster.

* * *

Cleaning up debris wasn't bad. The biggest pieces had already been gathered, and the rest didn't take that long. After that, though, Hopper decided it would be great fun if he made Billy clear out brush - the long, thorny kind you can pull up with your (gloved) hands. Billy cussed him out for it, but he just smiled and rattled the cuffs hanging from his belt. _I could always take you to jail, kid. _

Billy shut up after that. Still, he hated every minute of it. The branches fucking whipped him if he wasn't careful, he could feel his hair getting frizzy, and he'd never meant for this goddamn shirt to get so goddamn sweaty. Also he was pretty sure the thorns were stabbing holes in it, and..._ fuck. _

About an hour in, Hopper disappeared inside. Couple minutes later, he appeared at a side window, phone to his ear, watching Billy work as he talked.

Billy scowled. He thought about giving him the one-finger salute, but decided he didn't have the energy and kept pulling up brush instead.

Eventually Hopper wandered away from the window. He was gone for way too long after that. As Billy took another armful of branches to the pile, he glared at the cabin.

What the fuck was the chief doing? Shooting the shit while Billy worked?

Anger swelled inside Billy like red hot magma. He threw the branches on the pile harder than necessary, then leaned back to crack his spine. Casting another dirty look at the cabin, he shook his head. _Fuck you, pig. _He took off his gloves, threw them on the ground, and dug in his pocket for his cigarettes.

But of course, _of course, _he'd only managed to get a couple good breaths in when the chief's voice boomed from the porch.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Billy turned as lazily as possible to look at him. "Taking a break. What does it look like?"

Hopper stared at him. Billy could see the wheels spinning angrily in his head as he considered his options. Amazingly, he decided to let it go. Breathing in the fresh air, he leaned against the wall, reaching in his shirt pocket for a cigarette.

"Alright. We'll smoke. I'll talk."

Billy rolled his eyes and turned back to his cig. He listened as Hopper lit one up and took a long, thoughtful draw of his own.

"I got you a job with a friend of mine."

"You _what_?" Billy whirled around, eyes wide.

"Mm-hm." The chief blew a cloud of smoke. "Local farmer. Needs some help this season."

"You…" Billy could hardly breathe. "You..._ fucking asshole! _That wasn't part of the deal!"

Hopper glanced down at the cig in his hand. "Not in so many words, no." Pushing off the wall, he left the porch and sauntered toward Billy. "But keeping you off the sauce was. And you and I both know that if you aren't working your ass off till sundown every day…"

He stopped just a pace away from Billy. Glared at him.

"...you won't stand a chance."

Billy said nothing. Sticking the cig back in his mouth, Hopper grinned. Fucking grinned_._

"What, did you think I'd drop my duties and stay here with you every day?" He shook his head. "No. This'll be your weekend job."

Billy could practically feel his blood boiling. He should've seen this coming. They always do this - ask for a little, then take fucking everything.

"Fuckin'..._ prick_," he spat.

Hopper chuckled, but it wasn't a nice sound. There was a sharp, rusty edge to it, like an old switchblade scraping against wood.

"Feeling's mutual, pal."

All hints of a grin vanished. He leaned forward.

"Now get back to work."

Meeting the chief's stare head on, Billy squared his shoulders and stepped back. He flicked his lit cigarette onto the grass - let it start a fire, for all he cared - and grabbed his gloves off the ground.

As he headed into the brush, he could feel the chief's eyes boring into him.

Watching.


	3. He's Your Brother

The rest of the day sucked ass. Even with all his branch-pulling and thorn-wrangling, by 3PM, Billy still hadn't finished. And that was with barely any breaks - just a fifteen-minute lunch break (a sandwich from 7/11, delicious), and maybe two smoke breaks.

Woods. He fucking hated them.

Even worse, for most of the day, Hopper was either on the phone or chatting to his subordinates via walkie talkie. The rest of the time, he was sitting on the porch smoking and occasionally barking out directives. It was like prison labor without the prison. By the end of it, Billy was struggling to remember what was so great about this deal anyway.

Fortunately, the chief decided to show a little mercy. Billy had just thrown more branches on the pile, his biggest armful yet, it felt like. Right as the anger was bubbling up, making him fantasize about screaming at the trees, the chief came across the yard toward him. "Alright," he said, "that's enough for one day. Let's get you out of here, get you cleaned up."

Billy immediately peeled his gloves off. "God damn finally," he muttered under his breath.

The chief didn't hear, or pretended not to. As they walked toward the truck, Billy glanced back at the cabin and, when the chief wasn't looking, flipped it the bird.

It glared at him as hard as ever.

* * *

Somehow, the full meaning of "give you a couch to sleep on" didn't occur to Billy until they pulled into the driveway of the chief's trailer.

Hopper threw the truck in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. Billy sat frozen, staring at the unassuming single-wide before him. His heart beat faster; a prickling sensation swept up his back and down his arms.

_She _was here. The girl.

He'd be fucking _living _with her.

He cleared his throat. _Shit! Fuck! _"You sure about this, chief?"

Hopper paused as he was getting out. "Not when you ask like that."

Billy swallowed, trying not to look as nauseated as he felt. When he didn't respond, Hopper shrugged, got out of the truck, and headed for the front porch. Billy followed, his thoughts a litany of curses. _Shit, fuck, shit, fuck. _

Hopper let them inside without preamble. Taking off his hat, he called, "Hey honey, I'm home." He glanced sharply at Billy. "And...I brought company."

Billy frowned in confusion. Wait - was the chief married too? Then he realized, and his heart slammed into his chest. It did it again when a door opened down the hall, and a wiry girl stepped out.

El. She was dressed in a flannel and jeans, and she looked paler than he remembered. Her hair definitely hadn't been brushed today, and dark rings under her eyes told of bad dreams and sleepless nights.

Billy stared at her; she stared back. Surprisingly, she gave him a ghost of a smile. "Billy," she whispered hoarsely, as if she hadn't spoken much.

He didn't know what to do with that. Blinking, he turned and walked into the living room.

"This the couch?" he asked, gesturing to the hideous floral affair near the wall.

"Sure is." Still holding his hat, the chief addressed El. "Sweetie, why don't you go back in your room for a minute? I need to have a talk with our, uh… visitor."

She obeyed, giving Billy one last smile. As soon as her door closed, the chief turned to him. His face was stony, and his eyes bored holes through Billy's skull.

"Now that you've seen her," he said darkly, "some ground rules. Number one: if you hurt her in any way, I'll kill you. Number two: if you drink any of the booze in this house, I'll kill you. Number three: you're not to be alone with her at any time. During the day, I expect you to be out working. If you're done before I get home, find another place to be. Number four…"

He stepped closer. His eyes narrowed.

"..._No. Girls. _You have a car. Use it."

Billy's nostrils flared. "So… what? You're not gonna impound it?"

"Not yet." The chief looked at him shrewdly. "_That _depends on you.

"Now get cleaned up," he said, hanging his hat by the door. "We're going out for dinner tonight."

"You're fucking serious?"

"Like a heart attack."

When the chief noticed Billy staring at him, his expression fell flat. "It's not for you, hotshot. We already had plans."

With that, he walked down the hall toward what Billy assumed was his bedroom. Not even breaking stride, he pointed at another door to the left. "Bathroom," he said.

Billy scoffed. This had to be a fucking joke.

Besides, what the fuck would he wear?

* * *

Turned out the answer was: "clothes he wouldn't be caught dead in."

He had to wear his jeans, of course. Not much choice there. He rubbed as much dirt off as he could, then hit them with room spray to freshen them up. They'd smell like an old lady till he washed them, but it was better than the smell of sweat.

The rest of his ensemble was a total loss. Sweat stains in the armpits, smears of dirt, the like. So, out of the goodness of his heart, Hopper lended him one of his Hawaiian shirts.

Even leaving it half-buttoned couldn't save it. As they piled into the truck to go on their dinner date, Billy was ready to either kill or be killed.

El sat between them. She was wearing the same clothes as before, but she'd managed to brush her hair and pull it back in a scrunchie. All told, she looked halfway decent.

Goddammit. He'd been outdone by a fucking _fourteen-year-old_.

He spent the whole ride staring out the window, ignoring her existence. She stole glances at him a lot - he could feel it every time. But he wasn't about to reward her by looking back.

_We're not friends, little girl. And we're not _going _to be friends_.

His attitude evaporated when they turned onto a street he recognized. Dread pooled in his stomach, and he sat up straight. _No_. They weren't going _there _for dinner. Were they?

They were. It was confirmed when they pulled onto a long private drive, the one he'd barreled down in his Camaro last Halloween.

_"From now on, you leave me and my friends alone, do you understand? _

_"Say it. _

_"Say it!" _

As they stopped in front of the house, he clenched his fists so hard the nails cut into his palms. The universe was out to get him. If Hopper had known, he would've said something, right? So yeah, he didn't know, and the universe - or God, or karma - was using Hopper to punish Billy.

Not that it wasn't richly deserved, Billy thought.

The walk to the front door was the closest he had ever come to a walk of shame. His only saving grace was, as far as he knew, no one in this house had any idea he'd been here before. They didn't know he'd smashed plates, threatened children, and beaten Steve Harrington to the point of unconsciousness.

Unless the kids had told everyone. In which case, yeah. Walk of shame.

Hopper knocked on the door. The woman who answered looked kind but harried.

"Hiiiii," she said with a smile, drawing it out the way middle-aged women loved to do. She turned to Hopper with a softer "hey," and he stepped forward to kiss her.

Okay, so this was the chief's woman. Got it.

Billy glanced at the room behind her, where two boys stood some distance from the door - her sons, he guessed. The older one seemed vaguely familiar, probably from school, though if you'd asked Billy _where _in school, he couldn't have said. The younger one he'd never seen before. And yet-

-his pupils dilated.

The younger one was staring at him with a recognition deeper than sight. He seemed shellshocked, like he was looking at a long lost twin. Billy stared back, and when the same recognition sparked inside him, it rocked him to the core. A single, unspoken thought leapt between them.

_You're like me. _

Billy couldn't hide the shudder that swept through him.

Just then, the chief's woman said something about coming inside, dinner's already out of the oven, yada yada. Billy dragged his eyes away from her son. As they filed through the door - Hopper first, then El, then Billy - El hung back a second to look at him.

He met her look with a scowl. "What?"

She just looked at him, with eyes that saw far too much. Nettled, he jerked his chin at the door and mouthed, "_Go_." She complied, though with squared shoulders that said, _I'm going because I want to, not because you told me. _

"Fuck," he muttered as he followed her inside.

This was going to be a terrible night.

* * *

His prediction came true in spades.

Dinner itself was okay. Billy had never been a picky eater, and meatloaf was far from the worst thing anyone had ever served him. The sides weren't bad either - mashed potatoes, nicely salted, and steamed vegetables that were neither mushy or bland.

He had to hand it to Joyce Byers: she wasn't a bad cook.

But god, the company ruined the whole thing. They were packed in at the table like a bunch of sardines. To his left sat El, who he preferred to studiously ignore. To his right sat the kid - Will - who he preferred to ignore for other, more panic-inducing reasons. So that meant he could only look straight ahead, at the older Byers kid.

Billy speared a bite of meatloaf and tucked it in his mouth. Jesus, the guy looked like a fucking lizard.

"So, uh… Billy," Joyce chirped from across the table. "Hopper tells me you're going to be working for him."

"Uh huh," Billy drawled, twirling his fork in his hand.

"Billy's got himself in a tight spot, so we're gonna get him straightened out." Hopper took a bite of steamed broccoli.

"I see," Joyce said. "And...you'll be working for one of Hopper's friends too? Yes?"

Billy didn't answer. He could feel the chief glare at him as he said, "Yeah, I talked to Merrill. We're going over first thing in the morning."

"Well, that sounds promising. I hope it works out."

Silence fell over the table. Billy glanced back at Lizard Boy, who was pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate. When he realized Billy was looking at him, he met his gaze uncomfortably.

Billy smirked. "Hawkins High?"

"Yeah," Byers said, sounding very much like he didn't want to talk at all.

"So why don't I recognize you?"

Byers shrugged and kept picking at his mashed potatoes. Joyce leapt to her son's defense with a smile.

"He works in addition to school. I don't make a lot of money, so he goes out of his way to help me. Even if it means he doesn't have time for friends."

Her smile turned sweet, and she reached out to rub her son's back. It made Billy want to puke. Looking back at his plate, he speared a piece of cauliflower and ate it.

More silence. Eventually, Joyce cleared her throat. "Well... I hope everyone likes carrot cake."

To Billy's right, a fork clinked as it was set down on a plate. "Actually, Mom… can I… be excused?"

It was the first time Will Byers had spoken all evening. Though Billy kept his face neutral, as he took another bite of meatloaf, his senses went on high alert.

"Sure, sweetie. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

"Okay. Go get some rest."

Will's chair squeaked, and Billy felt a shift in energy as the kid left the table. At first he was relieved - one less person to eat an awkward dinner with. But as he picked at his vegetables, ignoring the conversation around him, a strange awareness tugged at the base of his neck.

_Go to him, _it said. _He's your brother. _

He slowed, gaze lifting from his plate. But just as quickly as the thought came to him, he shoved it down. _Fuck no. Go fuck yourself. _

It came back. _Go to him. _

_No! _

_Go to him! _

_Fuck! You! _

His thoughts dissolved into a scream then, a horrible, high-pitched scream like static and a screech rolled into one. He all but threw his fork down on his plate. The others looked at him in alarm, Hopper stopping mid-sentence.

"Uh. Sorry. Uh…" He wiped his mouth on his napkin. "Where's your bathroom?"

Joyce stared at him, not quite registering his question for a few seconds. Then she blinked and gestured. "Oh! Uh...down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thanks."

He tossed his napkin on the table and stood. As he turned to leave, he caught El's eyes. She was watching him with the same look as before, the one that made his innards wriggle in discomfort. He returned her look coolly, then walked away, adding some _fuck-you _swagger to his step.

For the sake of appearances, he made a pit stop in the bathroom. Then he slipped down the hallway, peeking through the doors until he found young Will's bedroom. The kid was sitting on his bed, looking straight at the door, as if he knew Billy was coming.

Billy hesitated in the doorway. First, because he was startled to see Will staring right at him. Second, because it really hit him that, _Christ, _this kid was a nerd. Everything about him screamed it, from the way he dressed to his ridiculous bowl cut. Back when life was normal, Billy would've made a point of ignoring him, with only occasional looks of disdain to remind him that, _yeah, you're weird. _

But nothing was normal now. Chewing his lip, Billy walked in.

As he scanned the room, a frown formed between his eyebrows. Something about this place felt...off. Like how he imagined a haunted house would feel. Someone - or some_ thing _\- had left an indelible imprint in this place, like a hand in wet cement, or a smeary artifact in a photograph. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

And just like that, he knew.

_Brother. _

Billy turned to Will, eyes widening. "He got you too."

Will swallowed and nodded.

"How'd they get him out of you?"

"They burned him out. I...I don't really remember."

The kid rubbed his arm, visibly mustering courage.

"H-how about you? Why didn't you die when they closed the gate?"

Billy hesitated. _The wave was seven feet. _

"I...threw him out," he said.

Will's mouth fell open. "You did?"

"Yeah. I mean...I had help." _And you were happy. _"Then he died, and I lived. Somehow. I'm not…" He swallowed. "I'm not...sure what happened."

"He didn't die."

Billy's heart stopped. "What?"

"We killed part of him," Will said, voice falling to a murmur. His eyes were wide, his hands gripping the mattress. "The real him is still out there somewhere. In the...in the Upside Down."

_The Upside Down. _Billy had heard that term only once, when Max tried to explain what the fuck he'd just been through. He'd shoved it out of his mind, though, as he had so many other things. He'd just come out of a living hell, and he had no desire to think about it more than he had to.

And now here he was. Thinking about it.

Funny how he used to believe he had a choice.

"So he can come back." Billy stared hard at Will. "Whenever the hell he wants."

"Not exactly. There has to be a...a gate. Between his world and ours."

"And there are people out there opening gates."

"Yes," said a voice at the door.

Billy turned, feeling a stab of panic. It was El. She couldn't resist following him, of course, and forcing him to deal with _two _strange kids at the same time.

Alright, fine. If he was gonna do this, he was going to commit. Folding his arms, he said, "Okay. So I'm guessing we can't do anything but wait. Hm? Somewhere out there, people are trying to open gates, other people are trying to stop them, and we're just caught in the crossfire. Am I right?"

El and Will looked at each other. After a bout of unspoken communication, El nodded slowly.

"Well, shit. What the fuck am I doing here, then."

Dropping his arms, he stalked toward the hall. El scrambled out of the way, then called after him, "Where are you going?"

"Outside. I need a smoke."

As he walked through the dining room, everyone at the table stared at him. He ignored them all and blew through the front door.

This deal was getting worse all the fuckin' time.


End file.
